Thirteen Years Of Lies
by In Need Of Slash Fix
Summary: It's 1998. After the devastating Battle of Hogwarts, Harry resolves to make amends with Draco Malfoy. However, they experience something more than friendship. Thirteen years of love, hate and lies follow. Prequel to ongoing story "A While In The Life".
1. Chapter One: 1998

_**1998**_

"Ginny!"

The castle was in ruins. A long way off, voices could be heard, presumably from the Great Hall; no doubt celebrating the victory of the war…mourning the dead. Rubble painted the floor grey, black and, in some horrific places, red. A few Slytherin emeralds had made their way through it, far from the shattered hourglass in the Entrance Hall. Splintered wood piled up in a corner, the remains of what looked like it could _possibly_ have been a table, or a piece of furniture. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in silence across it all, hand in hand, stumbling over unexpected bumps and objects. They couldn't be sure, but suspected it was around midday.

"She's- she's probably in the Hall, mate…"

"Ginny!"

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm, comforting him. A flash of red caught his eye in the distance, and he strained his eyes to recognise Ginny Weasley, coming towards the three of them. She was alone; her hair and face were almost black with dust and grime, but the tracks on her cheeks stood out white and glistening. Harry broke out of Hermione's hand to race as best as he could across to her. Ginny melted immediately into his arms when he held them out, and they stood in the embrace whilst Ron and Hermione made their way behind, being deliberately slow.

"Ginny," Harry breathed into her hair, "you're... How are you?"

"I- ... Better than I was around twenty seconds ago." Harry smiled at her sniffled laughter. Ron and Hermione caught up with them.

"Gin-" Ron reached for her, and Harry stood back with Hermione as the brother and sister held each other tightly. From his right side Hermione's throat caught, and she stifled a little sob. Harry took her hand and squeezed it; unspoken words of thanks, she leant into it.

Nobody spoke. Ron released Ginny, and the four of them found a space of ground which wasn't as littered with mess as the area they were currently standing on; they all sat down, uncomfortably numb. After a few moments of staring at the floor, Hermione raised her head and spoke.

"Fifty-four. I think- I think that's what it amounted to."

She subconsciously tilted her body so that it was closer to Ron, and he placed an arm around her shoulder and put his lips to her head. All of their minds lingered on one face in particular, and there were no words to describe the mutual loss of Fred Weasley.

They talked for some time; about the losses, about the damage; deaths, destruction. Neither of them had the heart nor the energy to lead the conversation in a happier direction. When they realised they didn't know what time it was, except that it was past twelve, and that they didn't know what day it was, only that it was somewhere near the beginning of May, the group decided to get up and make their way back to the congregation in the Main Hall.

Harry stood up slowly, rubbing his head with a couple of fingers. "You go on," he said to the others, "I'll… I'll follow behind in a bit. I just…I just need some time."

Ginny nodded and squeezed his hand; as did Hermione, and they led Ron off in the direction of the faint noise. Harry watched their retreating backs, and leant back against the wall. He sighed, taking in his surroundings. Grief filled his chest as he realised he had no idea where he was; maybe it was because of the time he had spent away from the school, or maybe it was purely because of the state of the area he was in. Looking around, Harry thought he would recognise something on the walls, or an object on the floor; sadly, he was mistaken. Breathing deeply, he shook himself off the wall and started to slowly follow the direction of the others.

So absorbed was he in finding them, Harry unknowingly went down a wrong corridor and wound up in a different place entirely. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, looking back the way he came. He continued on, retracing his steps by the dusty footprints they left; this part of the castle had noticeably less rubble adorning it.

Harry was facing the floor as he walked, hands in his pockets and not paying attention to any sounds to be heard, so he didn't realise there was anyone else there until he came into contact suddenly with another body. He staggered slightly before looking up to meet the startled eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy clearly had had the same problem, as he was just getting his balance when their eyes met.

On recognition of each other, they were silent. The air seemed sharper; a bird could be heard in the distance tweeting shrilly as if it had something to be happy about. Harry looked into Malfoy's grey eyes and inwardly recoiled at the weakness he found there. He could almost laugh out loud; after six or seven years of absolute _loathing_, neither of them could find anything to say. Malfoy must have spotted this, because his eyes hardened slightly and his mouth twitched as if he wanted to speak. Neither of them had moved an inch since recognition, and so stood in fairly close proximity like statues.

Draco didn't know what to say to Potter; there was nothing that could be put into one sentence, anyway. All he managed was one word.

"I…"

What? _I_ What? Draco shut his mouth.

_I want to apologise for being a git._

_I want to thank you for saving me from the Fiendfyre, when it would have been easier and more justified to leave me there._

_I want to scream and swear and hit at you for letting Crabbe die in the Room of Requirements_

…_I want to make amends._

The unspoken words seemed to pass through the air into Potter's mind, and his eyes became slightly unfocused as he tried to find a way of response. He was so close; Draco could have just reached out and…and touched him. Shaken his hand, shaken _him_, forced him to respond with something. Anything. Draco hesitated, with his arms at his sides-

And the moment was over, even more abruptly than it had begun. Voices calling Harry's name could be heard, and he focused his eyes over Malfoy's shoulder in the direction of which he heard them. Malfoy turned his face away as Harry looked back to him, and then longingly to where he knew Ginny was. Malfoy retreated suddenly into an empty classroom Harry hadn't known was there and a glimpse of his face before he was gone showed... What? Regret? Remorse, even? Harry sighed and followed the sounds of his name, back to his friends.

About an hour had passed, and the people in the Great Hall were gathered in groups with their friends and respective families. There was a soft buzz of conversation, but it was tinted with sorrow. The Weasleys, accompanied by Harry and Hermione, sat in comfortable silence on the end of what they believed to be the Gryffindor table; there were some communications between brothers, but other than that there was nothing. Ron had his head buried in Hermione's shoulder and was motionless; Harry and Ginny sat across from each other, and he gazed dully at the wooden table as she examined him from the small distance.

Harry was only just beginning to comprehend the full devastation of the battle; he was only just beginning to come to terms with the losses. Sat around his only true family, their grief hounded down upon him like a ton of bricks. Yes, Voldemort had been killed- _Harry had killed_- but at nothing if not a desolate cost. Severus Snape, Colin Creevey, Crabbe had died. Remus was gone, Tonks... Fred. Fifty others amongst them. Harry raised his head to look at Ginny; he could tell by her response that his eyes alone, if not his entire face, were contorted in pain and guilt. She reached out her hand and nodded, giving Harry the consent to rise from the table and slip quietly off.

Once out of the Hall, Harry looked around and debated which way to go to get some peace. His eyes fell upon the emeralds rolling around next to the Slytherin hourglass, and he stumbled towards them having made up his mind to go back the way he had come earlier. Harry barely recognised any of it from before; he relied on the sets of footprints to take him back.

Certain twists and turns became familiar to him again, and Harry paused as he went past what looked like a brick wall. He turned, faced it, and saw into the classroom concealed behind. Malfoy was in there, where he'd left Harry before, and was hunched over a table. His body was perfectly still, but Harry was still reminded of a time when he'd found Malfoy in the same position, hunched over a sink.

_Sectumsempra…_

Harry entered the room light on his feet, so as not to disturb the silence. He thought that Malfoy wasn't aware of his presence, and hovered behind awkwardly. He was struck with the same feeling as before; he didn't know what to say that could make the situation easier. Before he had made his appearance clear, Malfoy spoke.

"I know you're there, Potter." His body showed no signs of recognition, but Malfoy's voice was cold. "What is it?"

Harry hesitated before he replied, "Malfoy. I… I-"

"Spit it out. I don't have all day."

Malfoy straightened up and folded his arms across his chest, refusing to turn and look Harry in the eye. Through a slightly disarrayed reflection, Harry could see his eyes were as hard as ever. He took a step closer.

"It's over, Malfoy. You don't need to be so… _spiteful_ anymore; there's nothing left for us to hate each other for."

"Yeah; we can just make up and pretend the past seven years just didn't happen," Malfoy retorted, finally turning his head so that he could see Harry out of the corner of his eye. "I don't forgive that easily, Potter. In fact; I don't believe I _forgive_ at all."

Frustration slowly built itself up in Harry, but he resolved to keep his calm.

"Malfoy, stop being a git."

"Potter, stop being a patronizing twit and I may take you up on your offer."

Harry growled, and couldn't stop himself from going over to Malfoy and wrenching him from the window. He glared into Malfoy's grey eyes, cold as ice, and swore. He punched a table.

"Well, there goes my _keeping calm_," he muttered.

"Oh, get over yourself, Potter," Malfoy spat the name out and leant in closer to Harry. All, if any, of the former relaxation was gone and he tensed up in his anger.

"So you still hate me, even now. Ok."

Harry shrugged, shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Hey, Malfoy," he said with his eyes shut, "D'you remember that time when I found you in the bathroom?"

Malfoy hissed something unintelligible underneath his breath by way of response, and Harry continued. He didn't once open his eyes.

"Well I for one remember what happened when I first came in," he continued, "and I remember when you looked up. And for that brief moment, before the humiliation and _danger_ of the situation hit you, you held my eyes. You didn't hate me _then_, Malfoy."

Harry held up a finger as Malfoy's mouth opened to contradict him; he hadn't opened his eyes yet but just guessed that this would happen.

"And when we first met in Madame Malkins, and you talked out of your arse to me for god knows how long we were in there," Harry said, a small smile forming at the edges of his lips, "you didn't hate me _then._"

"I didn't _know_ you then, Potter, you insufferable idiot."

Harry finally opened his eyes, and they had a touch of wistfulness to them.

"And when you held out your hand on the staircase. When you asked me to be your friend," he said softly, "don't try and tell me you hated me then."

Malfoy glared icily at him, giving him only more confidence.

"Well, try that again, Malfoy." Harry straightened up, not affected by the coldness emanating from Malfoy. "Hold out your hand."

"Potter, I don't have _time-_"

"Just _do it,_ Malfoy."

After a moment, Malfoy put a hand into the space between them.

"Good. Now, you are eleven years old. You have just requested my friendship, and said something which probably has an undercurrent of anti-Weasley-ness."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered something about a waste of his time.

"And I, after having spent a long time contemplating whether or not to take you up on the offer, have come to a conclusion in my little eleven-year-old head."

"Potter, I know where this is headed; why do you feel it at all _necessary_ to replay the events of seven years ago?"

Malfoy looked like he was going to say something else, but Harry closed the distance between them and grasped Malfoy's outstretched hand. He shook it. He didn't let it go.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Malfoy only looked at him suspiciously. Harry leant in to his ear and spoke quietly.

"And all of the time, when I was talking to you with my eyes shut and my wand away; you didn't hate me then, either," Malfoy's head turned downwards as he stared at the floor, "and how easy would it have been to attack me, Malfoy? You could have easily disarmed me, punched me, done whatever it was you desired."

He leant back out and looked at Malfoy closely; saw the circles underneath his eyes, the insecurity beneath his perfected looks and postures. He saw the horrors of the past year or so as a Death Eater and exhaled.

"Draco, you're a mess."

Tentatively, not wanting to ruin things any more than he may have already done, he tugged on Malfoy's hand and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms protectively around the once enemy, and felt him stiffen up. After a moment of awkwardness, Malfoy let his body relax and leaned into Harry. They were silent, and let themselves be comforted by the others' close proximity. It could have turned into something more. Both of them felt the tension, and stopped themselves from responding to it; being satisfied by the comfort of the situation.

However, it was short-lived; two people were calling for _Draco…Draco? Draco!_ and their voices were getting more worried by the minute. Harry let go of Malfoy, who straightened up expectantly; it was his parents. Before Lucius and Narcissa could appear in the classroom, Malfoy looked briefly and…apologetically to Harry before he disappeared through the open door.

* * *

**A/N: Well, here it is. The first instalment of the long-awaited (i.e. 15-or-so-days awaited) prequel to A While In The Life. I hope it will answer some questions, and please bear with me if I delay in updating. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter Two: 1999

Thirteen Years Of Lies

_**1999**_

The darkness of a January morning threw all of the snow-covered trees in the garden to being visible in blindingly sharp focus, and Harry blinked a few times when the view outside the window was blocked suddenly by Ron.

"Bit bloody late, isn't it?" he snorted, turning to face a slightly unadjusted Harry, "I mean, _how_ long ago was Christmas Day?"

Harry was still dazed from the sudden darkness of the kitchen. His eyebrows creased together as he counted. "Um..."

"Ten days ago." Hermione came to the rescue, slipping into the kitchen and taking a slice of Harry's toast, "I would have thought you knew that, boys. Surely you don't need to go back to nursery school, do you?"

"_Nursery_ school?" Ron had a face which looked like cheese cauldrons had just been re-introduced. Harry sent Hermione a knowing glance on the sly, and they sniggered.

"Yes, Ronald, it's a Muggle form of education which teaches the most _basic_ things; you know, one plus one is two, This Is How You Spell Your Name, the ABC Song..."

Ron choked briefly on the cereal he was chewing. "The _ABC Song_? What kind of world did you _live_ _in_?"

Harry took a bite out of his toast and sighed dramatically. "_Clearly_ not one with a lot of imagination, Ronald." He tittered and pushed his plate over to Hermione, who had not yet produced food. "Here, d'you want this?"

She took the plate, not bothering to mask the worry in her eyes. Ron raised his eyebrows whilst lifting a spoonful of cereal to his mouth.

"Mate. That's _food_ you're giving away there," he said through chewing, "did you not _know_ there are children dying in Africa?"

"_You_ only know that because I told you, Ronald. And there are children _starving_- not simply _dying_- everywhere; plenty in England to worry about."

Ron shrugged. _Same_ _thing_, apparently.

"Yeah, and who says the food's going to waste? She'll eat it."

"_She_ has a name," replied Hermione to Harry scathingly, before softening her tone to ask, "Are you alright, Harry? You seem a little...unfocused."

"Yeah, I'm good," Harry smiled none too convincingly, "Just a bit...well, tired, I suppose..."

Before Hermione could prod further, a loud yawn sounded from the staircase and Harry's attention was diverted by Ginny padding in. He was quickly at her side, sharing a quiet morning conversation before she got her breakfast. Ron put his bowl in the sink and crossed the table to sit by Hermione, leaning close into her ear. Whilst softly warning her not to mention Harry's having not eaten, he made sure they looked like they were simply having some privacy. He took her hand. Harry and Ginny only just caught the nod given in response, and Hermione received two pairs of raised eyebrows. Although the latter probably knew what Ron was warning about, and had only acted so to humour his girlfriend. Hermione smiled to herself; it was sweet.

"Oi, Granger, what're you smiling about?"

"Nothing. I'm just happy, is all."

Ginny smiled back sleepily. "Good. Oh, wow. I can't believe I _slept_ so long! That party…that was something _else_..."

The day before last had been a massive New Year's party at someone's house in the countryside. The four of them had gone (much to the complaints of Mrs Weasley, who insisted that the New Year was a _family_ occasion) and partied hard until ten in the morning, returning home by one pm and promptly sleeping for around seventeen hours each. Nobody had yet attempted to speak to Mrs Weasley.

"Huh. Yeah, well I think we can safely say we won't go to any more of _them_ in the near future," Ron retorted, "At least not with _Old Mother Weasley_ on the lookout."

Ron laughed with the others before looking around quickly to check there were no signs of said mother being about; as much as he loathed his mother her strictness sometimes, he preferred it when his head wasn't being served on a plate. When he was sure she was either still in bed or elsewhere within the house, he leant back and crossed his arms over his chest, remembering the night or so before.

"You know, I could have _sworn_ I saw some old Slytherins there…"

Reflexively, Harry swallowed. He hadn't noticed anyone, but he knew Ron would most likely go on to describe in full detail his recollections. Harry sat straighter, suddenly reminding himself that there might be news of one person in particular.

"Really? Who?" asked Ginny, leaning forward to get in all the gossip. Ron shrugged, and mentioned a few names.

"Actually, I'm surprised Malfoy wasn't there with Parkinson," he continued, "They were always an item of sorts, weren't they?"

"Of course he wouldn't be with her," replied Harry without thinking, "the Malfoys surrendered, remember? He wouldn't hang around Pansy Parkinson unless there was some sort of death threat above his head."

All eyes turned to Harry, who flushed when he realised he'd spoken aloud. He shrugged, and stared at the table. Ron, the only one who was completely oblivious, drummed his fingers on his arms.

"You know, I think you're probably right," he said, gaining Harry and Ginny's attention again, "who taught you to be so…_thinkable_?"

"I think the word you're looking for is _empathetic_, Ron. Or maybe _sympathetic_."

Ron snorted. "_Sympathetic_? To a _Malfoy?_ Yeah, Ginny. Ok. I take it you're conveniently forgetting our little encounter with him last year, then."

"Yeah..." Harry murmured, "he was such a mess…" he had been ignoring the only other pair of eyes that had remained on him up till now, when Hermione brought him back to the present.

"Harry, you weren't even there. How would you know?"

Ron had _actually_ been talking about an encounter five months ago, in August; Ron had come across Dra- Malfoy whilst out doing some errand or another. He had reportedly returned with a black eye.

"Oh." The realisation hit Harry too late, and he couldn't find a way to worm himself out of admitting, "I was actually talking about May."

"May?" Ron was confused. And, more than likely, a little bit hurt.

"When did you see Malfoy in May, Harry?"

Hermione said nothing, but stared suspiciously. Harry made a point to avoid her eye, suspecting himself that she had theorised more than she was letting on.

"Yeah. You know, that day after the…the battle. When I was on my own. I, erm, I bumped into him. In the castle. And we, well, we sort of…talked."

"_Talked_? To _Malfoy_?" Ron's face was incredulous, and Harry cringed.

"What did you say? What did _he_ say?" Ginny leant even more forward, not realising her hair was draping closely over the milk in her cereal.

"Oh. Um," Harry thought back and tried to edit the conversation as best as he could, "It's almost a year ago, Ginny. At least eight months. I can't remember everything."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _No point trying to back out now, you've dug your hole._ Harry winced.

"Well, we talked…"

"_Yes…_" The two simultaneous responses almost made Harry laugh.

"Um. He spat a bit. Not literally, Ginny."

"Huh. Typical," Ron muttered underneath his breath.

"And..well, I _suppose_ we made a, sort of a truce? You could say? As in…" Harry cast his mind back to the actions which had, he supposed, changed a lot; before the Malfoys Senior came calling. "As in, I think you can safely say we don't hate each other anymore."

He caught the raised eyebrow from Hermione before she turned her head away. Again, suspiciously silent. Harry gulped.

"Something tells me you won't be able to trust him, Harry," deliberated Ron, "I mean, it's not as if you've had good experiences with _Malfoy_ in the past, is it?"

"I think that was the general idea behind _peacemaking_ with him, Ron," answered Ginny, rolling her eyes before turning back to Harry, "I think it's _good_ that you've made up with him; you can put your school years behind you, heal things. Hey, you might even start something close to _friendship!_ He seems like he needs it…"

Harry was growing more and more uncomfortable with the situation. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, his face growing hot.

"Hmph. Well, _I _think you'd be better off without him, the greasy blond git. Don't you, Hermione?" Ron looked over to his silent girlfriend, prompting her to answer him with his eyes.

"I think that Harry'll get what's coming for him, whether it's good or bad." She smiled suddenly, and got up with his plate to put it in the sink. "Don't look so _worried_, Harry; it's like you think we're ganging up on you!"

He tried to laugh, but found he couldn't. Abruptly, he got up from the table. "Come on, Ginny," he muttered, "I need to get out of here."

* * *

It was a lovely afternoon. They'd walked hand in hand in the snow, chatting about everyday things and playfully pushing each other around, before Apparating into Hogsmeade. From there, Harry and Ginny had visited all of the shops and boutiques which had started up again, conversationally wishing the owners good luck in renovating their businesses, before settling down for a couple of Butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks. They sat close together, huddled in a secretive little table in a corner. It was icy cold outside, and they saw flurries of snow outside the window above their heads. Now, as the skies outside threatened to darken, Harry rushed slightly in finishing his drink and rising from the table.

"Oh, Harry, couldn't we stay a _tiny bit _longer?" Ginny pleaded, as she shrugged into her coat, "I mean, I haven't _been_ to Hogsmeade for so long, and the time's just _flown_…"

"Yes, and you'll drink the rest of our money sat here," Harry replied teasingly. "Come on, we can walk for a bit before actually leaving." He threw an arm over her shoulders and they moved towards the door. Ginny huffed but said nothing.

They were spontaneously interrupted upon exiting the little pub by no other than Draco Malfoy; Ginny saw him first, and elbowed Harry who had his head turned in a different direction. (She didn't know, of course, that this was _precisely_ the reason Harry had his head turned in a different direction.) As soon as he "saw" Malfoy, his arm dropped from Ginny's shoulders.

"Oh! Malfoy!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise, "How, er…what a surprise- I mean- um…"

"How have you been..holding up?" Ginny asked tentatively. Malfoy had a parcel clutched to himself, and had been walking along the road rather hurriedly before Ginny had spotted him. He looked slightly worried, and tensed up a little upon being spoken to. She didn't wait for an answer.

"Harry was saying that he, um, saw you in May," she said by way of starting a nervous conversation, "and that you...made up? Or something?" she laughed weakly. "I mean, _I_ don't know, it just passed in conversation…"

"Oh." Malfoy's eyes flitted from her to Harry, and a slight inclination of the head answered his unspoken question. When he replied to Ginny, he was slightly less tense. "Um. Well, yes, we did..in a manner of speaking …er… I can't say I've..put it into motion though."

Harry cringed inwardly at the awkwardness of the conversation, willing for Ginny to end it so that they could go their separate ways. He caught a fraction of uncertainty coming from Dra- Malfoy; it was like he wanted to say something, but hadn't quite figured out how. Just like in May. And again, the moment was broken when he did eventually open his mouth.

"Well, er, I have some things to..." Malfoy indicated the package in his hands, "to do. So I suppose I'll be…?"

The question hung in the air, and Harry replied, holding out a hand.

"Yeah. It's…good to see you…"

Malfoy nodded, hesitated, and promptly turned and walked away. Harry withdrew his hand and didn't quite return it to Ginny's shoulders; it sort of hovered by her.

"That was strange," she mused, "almost like he was a different person. Harry, I…forget it. I _do_ think it would be better if we _didn't_ tell Ron about our little meeting today, though."

Harry laughed distantly, watching the retreating figure. "Yeah." They carried on their way through the snow.

Draco hurried off, unsure of whether he had intended to go this way initially. All he knew was that seeing Potter with the Weasley girl had set off something unintentional in his mind, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Of course, he had nothing _against_ her…on her own. But with Potter? Draco frowned. There was _something_, something which he didn't quite recognise, niggling away at him. Something which had made the brief conversation extremely awkward for all three of them. Draco shook his head and concentrated on where he was going, trying to put the situation _out_ of his mind.

* * *

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Over the next few days, Draco would wind up seeing a _lot_ of Potter..and her. It was true; every time he went to Hogsmeade they would be there, "enjoying" the rapidly deteriorating weather; any time he went to Diagon Alley, Ginny Weasley would need supplies for the final school year she was continuing after the Christmas Holidays. Both Draco and Ha- …Potter would make a point of avoiding each other.

Harry was getting increasingly frustrated by it all; why couldn't they just go somewhere and be _alone_, for once? It was getting too uncomfortable to believe, and he was finding it more difficult to whisk Ginny away every time he saw Malfoy without feeling a rush of guilt. Once, they were even with Ron and Hermione when they'd bumped into him; that had been even harder to avoid. Now, Harry was unsure of whether this was due to embarrassment between the two of them, unspoken words, the whole _I-hated-you-for-six-years-and-now-we've-made-up-it's-awkward_ theory or something else entirely; either way, it didn't look like they were going to be friends anytime soon. He could just tell that Ginny was disheartened; clearly, she had been hoping for at least an acquaintance… or something. Things like the disappointed expressions on her face every time they saw Malfoy quickly change direction on the street threw Harry into discontented guiltiness.

About two days later, a week when the girls were due back at school, Harry received an owl from Professor McGonagall. It requested his and Ginny's presence at Hogwarts, helping to pull the school back up from where they had left off before the war. Oh yes, it had recovered entirely, _physically_; they just needed some more inspiration to get the students more enthusiastic now, and McGonagall reckoned that the only way to do that was to bring in some "war" students, past and present, to work on a big…something or other. Harry didn't quite know what she meant, and when Hermione explained the whole idea (having received a letter herself) of creating a magical memorial mural type of thing on a wall somewhere, Harry was still confused. Either way, he responded to the letter enthusiastically, extending his personal gratitude to have been asked.

When the four of them arrived at Hogwarts the next morning, Ron more tired and reluctant than the others, they were lightly welcomed, but not altogether surprised to see, some of the old DA from their year and the year below. As greetings and catch-ups ensued, they noticed that the school really had gotten back on its feet; it was completely unrecognisable to the devastation they had left back in May. From the newly-constructed and magically renovated rooms and corridors, it was easy to see that the devastation of the War had…_almost_ been vanquished. There were still glimmers of the disaster which lingered in people's faces, their protective body languages; little things which would remind someone of how they saw a friend injured or murdered, and would turn their face grey.

McGonagall set about splitting the gathering of people into a number of groups, so that they could get to work resembling a congregation of hard-working, post-war students rather than a congregation of old wives having a good old catch-up over their morning tea. Unfortunately, it meant that Harry and Ginny were split up from Ron and Hermione; it was obviously clear that a couple of years away from school hadn't changed the lack of concentration formed when those two were put together. They were sent away into a different classroom, where the rest of their assigned group and a few others waited slightly impatiently. It was clear to see where they belonged; there were three little gatherings of Post-Wars, as Harry liked to call, around the room. Two of them had four people in, and the other had only two. A stifled groan _almost_ escaped Harry's lips.

The first girl was someone he vaguely remembered from Hogwarts; she was in Ginny's year. A Slytherin, it seemed, by the only slightly frosty reception they gave each other. Her name, he recalled, was Astoria Greengrass. Her sister was Daphne; _she_ was in Harry's year at school, another Slytherin, and had been a part of Pansy Parkinson's gang. Reluctantly, he cast his eyes on the other member and grimaced inwardly. This was going to be a long and awkward project. And it looked, as their eyes briefly met, like Malfoy was thinking _exactly_ the same thing.

Harry couldn't help the exasperated sigh that escaped him then, and was nudged sharply in the ribs by Ginny as she- of course- bounded forward in greeting; intent, no doubt, in healing the scars and gaps that Malfoy had left behind with Harry. (Speaking of which, Harry reckoned he would need to bubble wrap his sides if he was going to spend any more time with females around Dra- ...Malfoy. Because he had a feeling it was going to hurt. _Very_ much so.) Looking over helplessly at the other groups, he spotted something odd...something slightly recurring. The grounds outside the surrounding classroom windows seemed increasingly familiar to Harry; the more so the longer he stared at them. With a guilty jolt, he realised where he had been in this particular room before. He snapped round to face Malfoy.

"Hey, isn't this-?"

"Yeah."

It was spoken quietly; the conformation that this _had_ been the _exact_ place Harry and Malfoy had "bumped into" each other back in May. (What affected Harry the most was that he had had to recognise the landscape _outside_ the window to be able to recognise it as the same place; that was how badly destroyed it was last year.) They both averted their eyes to different directions, and Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist; instinctively, the way he usually did when distracted. Luckily, she was too busy trying to get even a _word_ out of Astoria Greengrass to notice and ask him what was on his mind.

It turned out that they, as a group, didn't really have _that_ much to do with the so-called 'mural' on the wall; the four of them were assigned to brainstorming themes and ideas which had come out of the war, were left over from the war, had been thought of _during_ the war, and anything else which could _possibly_ be related to the war and still be put down on paper _without_ gaining an icy glare from another person- in the group _or_ out. (In the _school_ or out, even.) Which, successfully but not altogether surprisingly, _did_ help to narrow everything down a bit. By the end of the first day they had pulled together quite an impressive list; the second task was figuring out what the hell they had to _do_ with it.

In the following hours and weeks of work, Harry would find himself subconsciously touching Ginny and staying always about an inch from her. Because he wasn't _too_ noticeable about his actions, it confused him and slightly snubbed him when Malfoy started to flirt dangerously with Astoria. It soon became obvious, after an entire hour of the Slytherins constantly flicking each other's hair, limbs, clothes or anything else that wasn't nailed down, that Malfoy was actually doing this _in response_ to the intimacy of Harry and Ginny. It did take him another hour to work this out, not being the sharpest tool in the box, but when it _eventually_ clicked into place, Harry responded in almost _Precisely_ the same way. Although he didn't need to flirt, seeing as he was already one step ahead of Malfoy in that sense.

The group soon found themselves working in two formations; Harry and Ginny usually in each other's arms on one side of a table, and Malfoy and Astoria drawing each other in and out on the other. As one side increased their ferocity, it would be immediately matched and upped by the other. By the end of a week, the two girls were as bewildered as they were pleased by the strange actions of their accompanying males. And whilst yes, it _was_ very entertaining to watch, it really _didn't_ get that much work done at all. In the slightest manner possible.

Therefore it was really a case of when either of the two boys, driven by the opposing intimacy and frustration of each other, would snap; the days were ticking away as the snapping points were drawing much, _much_ closer. And so the inevitable, inevitably, came to be on the first day back of term. All of the Hogwarts students were peeking through the windows of the group's unused classrooms, trying to get a look at the work being done to "officially" sort the school out. Or more likely, and certainly more realistically, trying to get a _better_ look at Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Wizarding Saviour and all the rest. They didn't seem to realise, however, that using the trivial little names and titles got their precious _Saviour_ in an extremely _dark mood_.

True to the word, Harry's face was black when he entered the class and got to work that day. His constant frustration seeped into Malfoy, and the two of them bickered like old women. It was also fuelled by the lack of distraction they had; of course, Ginny and Astoria were seventh-year students, and so were continuing their school day with ease. (Joined, no doubt, by Hermione, who was retaking her seventh year and NEWTs.) With nothing to vent their irritation on except themselves, Harry and Malfoy were having an increasingly hard time getting any work done. After a while, they gave up the _doing_ and simply had an increasingly-escalated shouting match, subsequent to which they were escorted _out_ of the classroom by an extremely severe-looking Professor McGonagall and into a so-called "punishment" room. It was just like being back at school. Harry laughed darkly to himself as he realised exactly that; they _were_ back at school, in every sense. Malfoy refused to turn his head but responded to Harry's laughter anyway.

"What is it this time, Potter? Did you _finally_ realise how ridiculous you are?"

"No, I'm just noticing how this place serves _perfectly_ as a _punishment_ room." Harry looked around at the mirrored walls, the enclosed space around them without so much as a window to look out of.

"And what would that be?"

"That it serves absolutely _no_ room for distraction," mused Harry lightly, "in the sense that there is no opportunity for me to do anything _remotely_ interesting that doesn't involve talking to or looking at you."

Draco tutted, and turned the slight inclination of his head away from Potter. The fool need not have known he had been inclining towards him.

"So, I hear- I mean, Hermione told me- that the _actual_ project thing is coming along quite nicely. They're going to have it all enchanted, and extremely… visual."

"Well, I'm sure that must be _lovely_ for your poor Granger," Draco drawled, ignoring Potter and staring instead out of the window- oh, no, the window he had constructed in his _mind_ to keep him entertained. No doubt Potter hadn't thought of that, and was trying to conjure up an exciting activity through the art of _conversation_. Draco scoffed. _Seriously_.

He heard Potter throw up his arms behind him. "You know, I can't _believe_ you, Malfoy!"

"What?" Draco said flatly. He felt footsteps, and then suddenly Potter was _there_. Stupidly, _intoxicatingly_ close.

"That you're still...still so _bitter_! After all these years, _and_ last May, you're _still_ bitter and rude and, quite frankly, an unforgiving, insufferable _git_!"

Draco stared long and hard into the uncomfortably close green eyes, and let his own slip into the cold grey stones he knew Potter recognised only too well.

"Well, we can't _all_ wear our hearts on our sleeves, going around forgiving people for the years of harassment they've caused," he jeered, "Why, Potter- isn't that what your _parents_ did?"

The rage in Harry bubbled up, and he pushed Malfoy squarely in the chest. It knocked him to the floor and on his back, where Harry had the chance to pin his hands across his chest and hiss in his face.

"Don't you _dare_ say a _word_ about my parents, _Malfoy_." he spat the name, "or you'll have more to worry about than a telling-off from McGonagall on your hands. If you're even able to _feel_ your hands, by the time I'm finished with you!"

"Get _off me_!" Draco hissed, and gained some control of the situation by using his entire body weight to force Potter off of him and roll him over; Draco wrestled him into a position opposite to that of before. An all-consuming physical fight ensued; both boys screaming curses and jibes at one another, getting more angered as the time went on.

Rolling around on the floor, neither of them could tell when the mood had changed. Neither Harry nor Draco would have been able to place the exact time in the fight when the fury they had been containing within themselves was finally worn out. They would not have remembered at which point Harry had screamed _fuck this!_ into Malfoy's face, and Malfoy had replied by dragging Harry onto his back and sitting on him. It would be..._fairly_ unclear as to when Draco stopped punching Potter to look at his face for a millisecond, before grabbing it with his mouth. They would only start to remember what exactly had happened by the time they were lying, panting and undressed, on the cold hard floor of the punishment room and asking themselves what in God's name had just happened. They would quietly dress themselves and sit on the floor, staring in different directions until they returned to their working classroom. Only then, when they were back working over the table with Ginny and Astoria on their lunch break, would Draco sneak a look at Potter and flash him a smirk. Only then would Harry resume working with a new distraction to take care of.

And so began the affair.

**

* * *

**

A/N: Second chapter VERY delayed; I'm so sorry about that, it took longer than I expected to complete. The first one I did over one day, having nothing else to do, but … meh. I don't know. I

_**will**_** try and get chapters to the screen ASAP, but please, bear with me =]**

**Fourteen **_**thank-you**_**s already? Yay! - **pinball62**, **bookworm19065b**, **XAnnabubbleX**, **Beckyno1**, **LupineLightning-IllusionDragon**, **Sadistic-Llama**, **Wesleyangirl13**, **BlackCatHikari**, **Alcas**, **omggcece**, **kaose**, **DWatts1027**, **xnyxchanx** and **Catindahat**. Cheers! =D**


	3. Chapter Three: 2000

**(A/N: I would recommend listening to the song Alibi by 30 Seconds To Mars whilst reading this chapter. Enjoy!)**

_**2000**_

"This past year has been, would you say, quite eventful, Potter."

Harry opened an eye. "What?"

"Well, it has been for _you_, anyway."

"I suppose."

And it had; the year so far had seemed a never-ending loop of contentment and alcoholic beverages. The fun had started with a belated finishing school party for Ginny, Luna and Hermione. It had been excruciatingly painful the next day; a typical Morning After The Night Before. Ron had wandered into the unfamiliar front room clutching his head and grumbling underneath his breath. _Bloody parties. What did she even retake the year for, anyway? Who'd _want_ to retake a school year?_ Harry chortled softly at the memory. Only it was slightly blurry, due to all of the pounding that had been in his head at the time.

And then there had been Ginny. Their relationship had grown stronger; it had developed into something much more _compact_ than a simple school fling. They had reached a new level, and were able to share everything with each other; friends, problems, desires, dreams...beds. She was all Harry could ever have asked for in a girl; yet, she was no longer a girl. Ginny, in the time it had taken her to finish school, had become a fully-grown woman. And Harry _liked_ it. However, this wasn't the main reason for the past year so far being so great. There was another, greater, explanation.

He was sexually involved in a reckless, precarious and above all, _irrevocable_ affair with Draco Malfoy.

Oh, yes; this little fact just completed Harry's year, and a smile crept onto his face solely thinking about it. They had been sneaking around since January 1998, and they _loved_ it. Whenever Malfoy was bored, or Harry needed some time out from work and relations; they'd get together and go somewhere in private. It usually resulted in the pair returning to an isolated place and making their own fun.

Admittedly, there were a couple of problems; firstly, it _did_ involve a _lot_ of sneaking past cameras and using Invisibility Cloaks- well, just the one- as hiding Harry Potter from the wizarding world proved to be something else entirely. However, they managed it with relative ease, and were never once spotted. Hiding it from family and friends was also a bit of an issue, what with all of the "unfinished business" and "um, going into town for a bit" being regurgitated and slightly altered every time Harry and Malfoy were meeting. It then made things more so difficult for, true to his word, Harry would have to find time to get something from town on his way back, or invent a story about finishing off business (the Malfoys didn't really care about where Draco went, as long as he came back later). Everyone was convinced, and Harry therefore only felt a _slight_ twinge of guilt towards Ginny when lying to her.

The thought of that softened his broad grin slightly, and Malfoy noticed. He opened Harry's eyes and stared at him.

"Thinking about her again, Potter?" the tone of voice was balanced, neutral, but Malfoy's eyes were hard.

"No. I was thinking about this year so far," Harry replied, watching the solidity slowly melt from Malfoy's eyes, "and you're quite right; it _has_ been _very_ eventful."

"Hah. When am I ever wrong?" Malfoy broke eye contact and rolled himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of his single bed and stretching. Harry stayed where he was, enjoying the view from behind.

"Hmmm, I don't know. There _might_ have been a few times. You know, in that six years when we hated each other."

"Yup, you just keep dreaming," Malfoy replied airily, getting up and wandering over to the locked door to retrieve the shirt he'd left there earlier. "Keep on telling yourself that, Potter." he chuckled underneath his breath.

Harry lay back and stretched his arms out underneath his head. At the current, sleepy moment, it felt even better than fu- _Well, maybe not _quite_ as good as _that, he thought. Out loud, he said, "But what were you talking about anyway, Malfoy? What's this year's happenings got to do with anything?"

"Well, I was just thinking..." Draco paused at a button on his shirt and inclined his head in the direction of Potter, not quite meeting his eyes, "about what's to come."

"What's to come? What do you mean?"

Draco turned his head away from Potter, forehead creased. "Well...the _future_, really... I suppose you and, um, _her_ will get married and-"

"_What_? Malfoy, what are you- ?"

"Oh, Potter. You're so blind sometimes." Draco did the last button on his shirt and turned around to look at Potter, to hold eye contact with him for the purpose of ending his speech. "And I was thinking, then, about what would happen to...us."

"Oh." Harry sat up, the duvet falling to his waist as he did so, to look at Malfoy's quickly retreating back. "Malfoy, you know that it..._probably_ will continue."

"Probably." It hung in the air and Draco nodded slowly, absorbing Potter's words. Word.

Harry was explicably delicate in phrasing his next. "Malfoy...you know, this _is_ just- ...just sex."

"Just sex," Malfoy repeated slowly, before turning to face Harry. One of his eyebrows was raised. "Is it?"

Harry couldn't find anything to say to improve the situation. Instead, he got out of bed and found his clothes, keeping his foot firmly placed in his mouth. The two of them dressed silently, and afterwards Malfoy held the door open for Harry, watching him leave. Harry could feel those piercing grey eyes on him until he turned the corner at the end of the fancy drive and Apparated.

* * *

Draco's hands fidgeted with one another as he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning his arms in his lap. His face was hard, and eyes unfocused, as he thought again about the conversation he had had with Potter. He mused over it, wondering what Potter possibly could have meant by _just sex_. Surely that couldn't have been what it was; people didn't spend a year lying to their families for _just sex_. There must have been something else behind it, Draco reckoned. Something that would cause him to look down on Draco._ Just sex._ He leant forward and stared at the wall.

Her. That must have been the reason. The relationship between her and Potter must have come to some strength or another for him to wave off the past year with Draco. After all, if something wasn't important, why would anyone put so much effort into performing it, and keeping it on the sly? Wasn't there _something_ to be said about Potter if he deliberately left his girlfriend and "family" to be with someone they hated? Draco ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his tired eyes. He lay back and sighed.

_No_, he thought, _he's right. We're keeping it private _because_ of the alliances to our family and friends. …his friends. It _is_ just sex. There's nothing more to it than that._

"But is there?" Draco murmured to himself, "How can I be so sure that there isn't?"

_Because he has a four-year strong girlfriend. _Draco winced and turned his head. _Because he has _friends_, because he has a _family _who care about him; if not self-placed._

"And what about what I have? What about what _I want_?"

Draco could find nothing in his brain to reply with. Potter's words were left there, swirling around behind his eyes. He sighed again.

_Just sex. Yeah, I should be so lucky._

Just as he was pulling himself into a sitting position, the door could be heard being unlocked. Voices pulled at him through the shut door, and Draco jumped slightly; he had forgotten about his parents returning from wherever it was they had disappeared to. And from the sound of it, they had guests. Draco quickly scanned his bedroom for any signs that Potter had been there; he replaced a box of stationery from where it had fallen off the shelf by his bed, and opened the curtains and windows before hesitating and sniffing the air. It didn't seem too bad, but Draco enhanced the smell magically anyway. He'd literally just sat down at his desk and grabbed something to be bent over with when his mother's head appeared around the door.

"Draco?" She watched him turn his head and smile, the picture of innocence, "Come down for a minute; we have some…interesting news. What is it you're doing there?"

Draco swallowed. _Interesting news_. This couldn't be good. He answered almost immediately, continuing the façade. "Oh, just catching up on some-" he glanced surreptitiously back at the item in his hands- "um, reading. Some of my old Hogwarts work; I can't _believe_ how much I got wrong back then!"

He laughed, none too convincingly, and took a closer look at the parchment. For one thing, it wasn't his handwriting. Hopefully his mother was standing too far away to be able to see that. And another thing; it was actually a letter from Potter which he hadn't got round to hiding. Draco gulped and folded it underneath a pile of stuff. He got up and turned back to Narcissa, who was waiting patiently at the door. When she saw she had his full attention again, she spoke.

"Well, come then, Draco. They- I mean, _we_- are all waiting for you." Her lips turned smugly upwards at the edges; she knew more than she was letting on.

_They. _Interesting_ news … ok,_ Draco thought, before checking his looks and following her down.

* * *

"But Hermione, we _can't_ stay here forever! It's impossible!"

"Yes, but living somewhere else is even _more_ impossible! And after all, it's not as if we're not welcome!"

"Huh. _You_ might be welcome," Ron muttered, before returning to the use of his former hushed tones, "Look, I just think that after _twenty years_ of living in this place, and practically a decade for you as well, it's about time we got somewhere of our _own_!"

"Well, _what's wrong with here?_" Hermione gestured around them to the kitchen they were sat in, obviously meaning the entire house.

"Well, unless it's escaped your notice, there are actually _nine_ people living in this house- _eleven_ if you count the times when Bill and Fleur visit- and it's _impossible_ to get any pr-" Ron stopped short when the door opened, but continued when he saw it was only Harry passing through- "any _privacy_. And also, I don't think that I could live another year with my mother without doing something I'd regret."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief and abruptly rose from the table, following in the direction Harry had gone. Ron was left, bewildered, in the kitchen. He shrugged and grabbed a roll.

"Harry!" Hermione called, and caught him pulling on his coat by the door. He looked slightly alarmed to see her there. "Where are you off to?"

"Oh, I just have something to…sort out," Harry replied slightly awkwardly; after all, it wasn't _entirely_ a lie. There was a moment of silence before Hermione crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You know, I saw Malfoy the other day," she said lightly.

"Did you?" The interest in Harry's tone of voice was only slightly disguised, and she stared at him reproachfully.

"Yeah. I _did_ say hello, but he just nodded and continued on his way."

"Oh. That's…that's, um, strange."

"Yes, that's what I thought. I mean, I thought you were getting along quite _well_ with him, last January."

"Well…maybe he just..Maybe he's not _that_ forgetful of the school years."

She smirked, before turning around to go back to the kitchen. "Hmm. Maybe. Have fun, Harry."

Slightly confused, Harry left the house. _Have fun_? He shrugged; she was just in a funny mood. That had to be it. It _had_ to.

When found his destination, he notified Malfoy the usual way; casting _Silencio_ before _Avis_ and _Oppugno_. The little flurry of birds shot straight past Malfoy's window and promptly attacked the nearest tree. Harry chuckled and waited for the front door to open. Malfoy saw him; he hesitated slightly, looking back towards his house, before coming forwards. Harry turned and started to walk back; he didn't need to turn around to see that Malfoy was following him.

Potter didn't stop until they were far away from the grand house; Draco had to rely on him walking slightly more slowly at places to be able to keep up, at a safe distance apart. Only once they were in some secluded place, with trees and shade for cover, did Potter stop and…look at the tallest branches. Whilst waiting patiently for Draco to catch up, it looked like he was counting them. Draco stopped a few paces away and lingered awkwardly. Potter hadn't seemed to notice until he spoke.

"I'm sorry about…earlier. Yesterday."

Draco nodded, before remembering that Potter had his back to him. "It's…I believe you." He wasn't entirely sure if it was _ok_.

Potter turned around, his head first, to face Draco. It looked like he was thinking extremely hard about what he had to say. Eventually, he opened his mouth.

"The future."

"Yes," replied Draco indifferently, "what about it?"

"Well…you were exactly right in asking what's to come. And, well, I don't _know_ what's to come; who could tell?"

"Potter, spit it out. I haven't got all day." Repeating words from two years ago made Potter blanch. Draco winced inwardly; he had forgotten about those words.

"Potter, it's real," There was a note of pleading in Draco's voice, so poorly disguised it almost shamed him, "I _know_ it is. You wouldn't go to so much effort…"

He trailed off when he saw Potter close his eyes and pass it off as a long blink; when he opened them, they were filled with dread and reluctance. Most probably for what he had to say. Draco braced himself.

"Look, Malfoy…the thing is..It isn't," Potter's voice echoed in the green stillness of the surrounding trees, "and I thi- I know it isn't because…"

"What?" Draco let himself slip slightly into the old, hard façade of a bully he had left behind two years ago.

"Because I don't think I can trust you."

They stared each other down, summing up the conversation in the viewpoint of the other.

"Why?" The word was cold. "Why not?"

Potter hesitated; he scrunched his eyes up. "It's difficult to explain. You…you always seem like you're …_keeping_ something from me."

Draco grimaced, thinking about the previous day's events. "So this is a…_trust_ issue then. You don't… trust me."

Potter looked like he wanted to contradict, but kept his mouth firmly shut. Draco took a step closer to him, so that he was inches away.

"You think I'm keeping something from you."

"No- not like that," Potter said softly, "I think you _seem_ like you're keeping something from me."

Draco paused. "I am."

Harry opened his eyes in confusion and was slightly alarmed by Malfoy's closeness. "What?"

"I found out something which could affect you. Yesterday." Harry searched his face, willing Malfoy to elaborate. His eyes were met, and Malfoy exhaled sharply.

"They have…plans."

_They have…plans…plans…plans…_ the word seemed to echo against the silence of their location. Malfoy continued, extremely hesitant. And, it seemed to Harry, unwilling; as if he didn't want to believe his words himself.

"I'm… my parents have planned it with hers," he said softly, closing his eyes and shutting out Harry's unspoken _who?_ before continuing, "And I'm-"

"What? _What_, Malfoy?"

"I'm marrying Astoria."

Astoria. The name brought back sudden memories of working at the school; the competitive behaviour between the two of them, each trying to up the other and make him jealous. Harry sighed and took a step back. Malfoy responded by taking a step forward.

"And now you think that whatever happens, at least if this ends then I have someone to go back to. Right. What a relief that must be for you, Potter."

"What?" Harry's eyes widened; it wasn't a relieved sigh that he had let out- it was a disheartened one, "No! Stop…_jumping to conclusions_ about me! See, this was part of my problem- you always see the _worst_ in people! You always _have_ done, Malfoy!" Despite the calmness of the surrounding area, Harry kept his voice low.

"Was part of your problem. _Was_." Malfoy turned, robotically, and started to walk away.

"Malfoy-" calling his name made no difference, but Harry pursued him anyway- "Malfoy, wait-"

But it was too late. Malfoy was gone. Harry stared into the space where he had Apparated from, and resolved to make it up next time they met.

* * *

Despite the conflicts, Draco and Harry continued to see each other secretly. Harry had started to note things down in his brain which he never would have noticed before, which he wouldn't have lingered on after that conversation in the woods. One was that they never talked about _his_ life; Harry would mention Ginny, or Ron and Hermione, and there would be slight conversations- and, most often, disputes- about them. Malfoy would listen to Harry's _Weasley Problems_ (as he had titled them, deciding not to use the- in his opinion- more suitable term of Weasel for Harry's sake) for hours at a time, to the point where he would be able to list them off the top of his head. However, when Harry attempted to inquire the same questions into Malfoy's life, there would be no response. Any talk of Astoria and Malfoy would clam up, or change the subject. It annoyed Harry to no ends.

Another thing was that Malfoy became more irritable and unresponsive when it Harry left him, or when it was nearing the time that he had to be back home. At those times, when Harry talked of Ginny or Ron he would be greeted with a non-committal noise from Malfoy (who would usually be looking anywhere but Harry's eyes). And it wasn't just Malfoy either; Harry found that, when with Ginny, he didn't feel the usual buzz anymore. In fact, when he was with _any_ of his friends, he felt slightly more withdrawn. They didn't pull him into the fascinating encounters such as the ones he had with Malfoy. They were, in a word…_boring_. Yes, that was it; Harry was less interested in what they had to _say, _or _do_. Over time, he came to the realisation that maybe Malfoy had been right.

Perhaps what they were doing wasn't…_just sex_.

Sat on the edge of his (and _her_) bed, Harry recoiled at his earlier words. It had been a while since that day, and Harry had come to some decisions. He had to have Malfoy _know_ his feelings; he had to get through to him and tell him he was right…before it was too late. Harry scribbled out a note on a piece of parchment, for Malfoy; he was to meet Harry in a fairly exclusive Muggle place not far from The Burrow. Harry gave it to Pig the owl, who seemed quite pleased to have a letter which wasn't too big for his tennis-ball-sized body and promptly flew out of the nearest window. Mumbling some excuse or another to Ginny, Harry got his coat and left. He was too distracted to notice the quiet figure that slipped out behind him.

Harry was too distracted to notice anything, really; he was thinking about what he would say to Malfoy when they met, and to tell him of his…realisations, to Apparate to his destination. He was too cut off from the rest of the world at that present moment to notice the slightly shimmery air next to him, a tell-tale sign of somebody using a Disillusionment Charm. All he thought about was Malfoy.

He found the place he was looking for, and Malfoy was already there; he must have Apparated from his home as soon as he got the message. It looked like he had been waiting for some time as well. He looked up at the sound of Harry approaching, and said nothing. Harry met him a metre away.

"It's not just sex."

Malfoy looked up at him and smirked. "So you're _finally_ listening to me then, Potter."

He stood straight from where he had been leaning against a wall, and took a tentative step closer. There was about half a metre's distance between them now.

"I'm not too late, am I?" Harry spoke quietly, but firmly, "I haven't waited too long. You're not- you and Astoria-"

"Don't say her name, you'll ruin it," whispered Malfoy. They had been slowly closing their distance, and were now inches apart. They stared each other down, mentally going further than necessary.

"What is she to you then?" the question was suggestive. Harry made the inches centimetres, and noticed Malfoy was taller than him. Which, admittedly, _did_ make things more difficult at the present moment.

"_Nothing_." Malfoy bent his head and traced Harry's neck, breathing deeply. "She's _nothing_ to me."

"Are you sure about that?" Harry tilted his head upwards, his heart racing, and reached a hand around Malfoy's back to draw him closer. Malfoy didn't answer, but reached Harry's lips with his own, his own breath accelerating. He put a hand through Harry's hair, twisting it around his fingers, and-

"I _knew_ it!"

The sudden outburst opened Harry's eyes wide enough to realise the facts he missed before. Malfoy recognised the voice, and looked up to confirm Hermione standing a small distance away. She looked furious; Harry was released and Malfoy stood to the side to avoid her wrath. Harry exhaled sharply, and opened his mouth to speak.

"_No_, Harry- don't dig the hole deeper." She bounded up to him and placed a hand on his arm, before turning to Malfoy. "Ten minutes," she spat. Malfoy took the hint in her eyes and vanished, catching an apologetic- but not altogether regretful- glance at Harry.

Once he was gone, Hermione slapped him. He made no inclination to touch it, although his left cheek was fast turning red and it stung like nothing else.

"What the _bloody_ hell were you thinking?"

"Hermione, I-"

"_No! Silencio!_" She flicked her wand at him to cease his excuses, "you don't get to worm your way out of this one. _What_ in the _world_ made you go for someone like _him!_ You could have chosen _anyone_ to have an affair with, and you choose Draco _bloody_ Malfoy! What – were – you – _thinking_?"

Harry tried to answer, but the effects of her spell held strong and he couldn't make a sound.

"God, Harry, I can't _believe_ you've been so-" she struggled for the word, before spitting, "so _stupid_! Malfoy, Harry! _Malfoy!_ He could have hurt you _so_ much, Harry!"

Harry, once more, tried to talk. He punched the wall in frustration, and nursed his now throbbing hand whilst Hermione continued her rave. He zoned her out. Vaguely, he noticed her shouting about Ginny, the Weasleys, the Malfoys, betrayal, the consequences of his actions. He did nothing but stare at her, willing her with his eyes to take off the stupid spell so that he could have a chance to explain himself.

"…and, well, this is _your_ funeral, Harry," she continued, "You're going to have to get yourself out of this one yourself. Because I'm _sure as hell_ not going to help you."

With that, she vanished. Harry found he could talk again, and tried calling out her name; but it was no use, she was gone. He sighed and turned to see Malfoy standing awkwardly to one side. He opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't. It had nothing to do with magic. Malfoy nodded in understanding, and also vanished. Harry lingered for a minute, deciding what he had to do, before Apparating home. He had some news for Ginny.

* * *

A week later, Draco was at his desk, staring out of the window, when something small and feathery collided with it. He opened it up and pulled in the Weasley owl, taking out the envelope inside. The owl- Pigwidgeon, he recalled, was its name- promptly flew off again. Apparently, there was no need for a reply. Draco had an eerie feeling that he knew what was inside the envelope, and set about opening it with a heavy heart. The notification was short and sweet; the wedding was to be in May, the exact date wasn't set but it would be sometime around then. There was a footer, to keep his diary clear and his eyes open for an invitation. It was all very official; Draco wondered how many people had also received this. Another folded piece of parchment fell into his lap, and he closed his eyes briefly to will the sudden hotness he felt there to ease. With a heavy heart, he unfolded the parchment and scanned it for its short note.

_I'm sorry. H. x_

* * *

**A/N: Ok, so these chapters are taking **_**way**_** longer than I expected to write. With the return of our boys next Friday to AWITL, it will probably delay TYOL chapters even more. (=[) But I shall try as best I can =]**

**Thank you: **pinball62**, **SiriusBlackShouldntHaveDied**, **-cide**, **Rapunzelle**, **Drix Potter Malfoy**, **elf warrior princess**, **lilz54**, **BlackCatHikari**, **Katatonic Wrath**, **Chalcedony Rivers** and **XAnnabubbleX** =]  
When the chapters are late you all have my full permission to come to my profile and message me a cyber!slap :3**


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